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The Memories of Darkagma: The Void
1st Kure SNLF Headquarters’ Commanding Office, The Void, ??? Almost 3 years after the second Angelfall Darkagma woke up from his nap, escaping from a desperate world of darkness in his dreams., only to find himself trapped in his office under the exact same circumstances. The man looked out of the window, in the same way he has been doing for the past years. All he could see was what he calls “the void”. A blob of darkness that doesn’t feel particularly threatening, but that also carries an immense sense of sadness. He opens the door, in the same way he does every day. The Void is also there, standing thick and cold in front of him, starting exactly where the wooden door frame ends. Darkagma dashed towards the darkness running at a pace even Elite Shadows would find difficult to keep up. After 1 or 2 minutes sprinting, Darkagma looked behind, only to find that the wooden door frame stands no more than a step away from where he is. With a distressed sigh, Darkagma goes back into the office and looks at the back of his desk. A calendar hangs on the opposite side of the office, with January 31st being the last page of it. Right beside it rests the head of a large wooden pendulum clock, whose pointer has been stuck at midnight for the past three years. No matter how much strength he applied, the pointers or the pendulum would not yield. On his desk, lies a framed picture. Darkagma stares at it with a bitter-sweet look. Beside him, strong men look to the camera, all of them with their swords holstered and with a triumphant smile plastered on their faces, with the Eiffel Tower (or whatever remained of it) on the background. The photo celebrated the end of The Day The Lion Was Tamed incident. Next to the door lies the radio, on which Darkagma had issued commands and led his men to glory during the campaigns of the Shogun Empire to spread civilization to a world festering with corrupted barbarians. Darkagma walks to the radio and presses a few buttons: Yokosuka Naval Arsenal, Sasebo Naval Arsenal, Maizuru Naval Arsenal, Shanghai Tank Battalion, Itoh Naval Outpost... All channels return an ominous silence, in the same way they have sounded since three years ago. One last button has seen frequent use: the League of Nation’s channel. On the other side of the wire. Commanders of every faction, culture and color chit chat leisurely in a channel that was used some years ago to make formal declarations of war or to announce military exercises. Now they all stand alone, together. None of them can see the future that lies ahead of them, nor whether their suffering will ever have an end. Commanders, once sworn enemies and now frenemies, remember their feats on the battlefield and wish for the return of the old days that tasted of blood and ashes. No one enjoyed it, but simply couldn’t get enough of it. Darkagma sat back on his armchair, resting his head on its back, ready to nod off again and dream of the days of yore. In the same way he has done for the last three years. Seasons may come Seasons may go But honor will be preserved And our memories shall live on